The House of Irony
by CrumbsUK
Summary: The CSI team is sent out to investigate the death of one of Vegas' most influential entrepreneurs, but the case takes a twist when it's discovered that the crime scene itself may be responsible for the man's death. Chronicles of Las Vegas - 1x08
1. Part 1 of 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its affiliated characters. Characters not in the series are my own.**

**A/N: This is the eighth story in my series,**_**Chronicles of Las Vegas**_**. It's not necessary to read the first seven stories in order to understand this one but if you want to go from the beginning,**_**A Midsummer Nightmare**_**would be your starting point. :)**

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><p>The roaring fireplace lit the room with bewildering eloquence, showing off the sophisticated décor and the many riches that lined the living room of Goushi Miura, which harmonised the architectures of many Eastern nations but in particular his own Japanese heritage. Inhaling slightly, Miura gently lifted the mug, which sat on a small table adjacent to his perfectly moulded armchair, to his lips, gently sipping the beverage it contained.<p>

Frowning slightly, he quickly returned the mug to the coffee table and forcefully swallowed the hot liquid.

"Suki!" He called out towards the slightly ajar doors at the side of the room. A small lady of Japanese descent poked her head around the door with initial curiosity, before realising her employer wanted more than her presence as she briskly walked to where he sat. "You can't make me take those," he told her sternly, pointing at the mug which sat innocently on the table.

"Sir," Suki spoke softly, politely asking, "may I have permission to speak?"

"Granted," Miura replied, taking a biscuit from a tray which sat next to the mug of rejected tea.

"With all due respect, sir," she whispered slowly, unsure if what she was about to say would be the wisest thing. "You have a big meeting tomorrow, potential customers from Korea and Thailand; you need as much r…"

"I can sleep fine," Miura cut her off, taking another bite from the biscuit. "Just get me another tea," adding warningly, "but this time without the pills."

Sighing ever so slightly, Suki acknowledged her instruction, picking up the tea and carrying it through the doors and down an elaborate set of marble stairs to the staff kitchen. Once there, she casually poured the waste down the sink, leaving the mug on the side to be washed at a later time.

"What was it this time?" A husky voice, one of a South African accent emitted as one of her colleagues walked up to her, "too cold, or too weak?"

"Neither," Suki replied as she put away some clean dishes which had been left on the side. "He's not taking his pills again."

"Ah," said the South African lady, Wanda, assisting her colleague putting dishes away. "The classic spike his drink method. I see he no longer falls for that."

"Not for that one," Suki exclaimed, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "I'm gonna need some help moving him."

The two exchanged smirks as they left the kitchen and headed back into the study where Miura now lay slumped in his seat with his mouth hanging open and one arm lay limp over the side of the armchair. A half-eaten biscuit lay on the floor directly underneath his hand, leaving a cluster of crumbs by Miura's unflattering sleeping position.

"The biscuits?" Wanda asked curiously. "I am so using that next time."

* * *

><p>"For a sixty year old… with an eighty year old body… he's pretty damn heavy," Wanda panted as her and Suki heaved the limp body of Goushi Miura up the ornate marble staircase to his room.<p>

"Agreed," Suki said strenuously, in between frequent breaks for heavy breaths. "Couldn't he have had an elevator installed when he designed this deathtrap?"

Ten minutes of immense heaving and teamwork later, Suki finally pushed open the double doors which led to Miura's master bedroom, a room which continued to emanate the obvious power and wealth which Miura possessed. With one final push, the two women managed to launch the sleeping man across the room, as he ungracefully stumbled onto the bed falling into a face down position across the width of it.

"I think that will do to be honest," Suki panted.

"Agreed," Wanda nodded. "I can't believe it though, one hundred and twenty servants…"

"Slaves," Suki corrected her.

"True, but still, where the hell is everyone?"

"Well, a load of them have Thursday off, Rita's performing, Faye is still on maternity leave and Stefan is on a date with some guy he met at the bookstore."

"The one with the goatee? He's gay?"

"He sure is," Suki nodded. Miura suddenly let out a loud snore, startling both ladies. "I think we should let Sleeping Beauty rest here."

"True, and we don't want to be locked in all night, not in this house."

The two women briskly walked out the room, Suki turning back and saying in a mockingly sinister manner, "Goodnight Mr Miura," as she closed the double doors, encasing her master in a room of darkness.

* * *

><p>"Come on Sara, you've had your hand on that piece for ages," Nick muttered impatiently, folding his arms impatiently as Sara pondered on her next move.<p>

"Don't you know that chess is a patient sport, Nick?" Sara quipped, removing her hand from the queen. It had been a slow day at the lab which was proving to be merciful on this day particularly, for Ray had taken a sick day and Greg was still on temporary leave following his ordeal weeks before, although his colleagues had visited him over the past month, the shrink had not recommended him to return as of yet. With Catherine still following up from a breaking and entering, it left only Nick and Sara on stand-by.

"Chess isn't a proper sport, Sara," Nick remarked, laughing to himself. "Football, baseball, hockey, those are what I'd call sports."

Sara giggled as she moved her bishop to take one of Nick's knights, remembering a similar conversation she'd had before many years ago. "I'd have to agree with you there."

"Well look who decided to show up to work today," Nick called out delighted as a tall blonde figure strutted into the room, taking a seat beside them. "I thought you said the shrink was keeping you at home a bit longer."

"Well luckily," Greg smiled as he received a 'welcome back' hug from Sara, continuing as he glanced at his watch, "as of, two hours ago, I've been given the all clear. Quick little chat with Ecklie and Catherine and I'm all good to go."

"They let you back just like that?" Sara asked.

"Well Catherine wanted me back in the lab. Zero chance there, and as for Ecklie, I think he was just relieved he didn't have to hire a replacement," Greg noticed Nick pondering over his next move and pointed out a possible move, "by the way you can checkmate her if you move your rook there."

"Damn you Greg," Sara scowled as Nick followed Greg's suggestion, winning his first match against Sara. "You can go and shove your high school captaincy title where the sun don't shine."

"Now there Sara, there's no need to be a sore loser," Nick teased.

"I'd like a rematch," she told him, before turning to Greg. "And an apology."

"I'm sorry you're terrible at chess Sara," Greg snorted with Nick who was also sniggering at Sara's annoyance. As annoying and childish her colleagues were, she had to admit it was good to have them all back together on shift.

"Okay guys," Catherine walked in, a single file clutched in her hand, "your day's just become slightly more interesting. Four-nineteen just outside Desert Shores."

"Ooh, rich bitch," Sara said, raising an eyebrow in interest. "Who's getting it?"

"All hands on deck," Catherine replied hurriedly. "Get your kits. I need you out there in five minutes, god help us if David Phillips beats us to a crime scene."

* * *

><p>"No… no officer, I-er… I didn't kill him," Brass raised his eyebrows as he extracted the first-witness' statement. He studied the man closely, tall, young-looking, slurring his words and appearing to be incapable of keeping himself stable. "I turned up early for my shift at work… I-er… I got inside and there he was lying on the floor. So I was like "whoa! Dude… you had way too much to drink" and he was like, not moving."<p>

"So that's when you called nine-one-one?" Brass eyed the man up and down.

"Well no, I… I, thought he was just passed out. So I was like "Dude! Wake up!" and he was still like, not moving. Then Mayla showed up and was like, "oh my god! oh my god! Call nine-one-one you moron, and then she like, chucked me out."

"We're going to need to speak to this Mayla," Brass informed him professionally, trying hard not to snap, as the drunken witness began to stroke his police badge.

"Oh er, she's over there," he pointed to a young, black woman who was currently being questioned by Vartann. "She has some fine African booty."

"Mr Wallis, is that your car?" Brass pointed to the red Honda Accord planted against the branch of an oak tree, the front of the car crushed by an obvious crash.

Wallis giggled and nodded sheepishly, "that was some wild night," he exclaimed before toppling over face first on to the granite by Brass' feet.

"Hey Akers, take Mel Gibson here downtown, breathalyse him, charge him for DUI," Brass ordered to the officer who acknowledged them before getting to work.

Brass walked further down the drive, past where many detectives were questioning the numerous servants who worked there to the front of the extravagant mansion. He saw the vehicles from the crime lab make their way through the grand entrance gates, pulling up next to Brass' car already positioned on the drive. Catherine was first out of one of the cars; she walked briskly up to Brass, crime scene kit in her hand.

"What's with the media circus outside?" She asked him flustered, indicated to the large amount of news crews and reporters restrained behind the iron gates they had passed through.

"The victim's name is Goushi Miura, major entrepreneur, one of Vegas' richest and most influential," Brass answered her question.

"Hey I've heard of him," Nick appeared alongside them. "There was an article about him in a recent paper, he owns a huge transportation corporation. You could ask him to move the whole LA and he'd have a big enough fleet to ship it."

The three of them began to walk towards the front door, past a long line of workers waiting to be questioned. Catherine frowned as she walked past them, curious about the wide ethnic diversity of the workforce.

"Is this a crime scene, or some kind of UN summit or something?" She asked.

Nick jumped in again with an answer, "I read that whenever he made a new deal with a company in a certain part of the world he'd hire someone in that location to work in his mansion. Look, he's got people from the US, Europe, Austalia, Asia, even parts of Africa."

"If you can't take over the world, enslave it," Catherine said in a slightly bitter undertone as the three of them walked through the enormous entrance doors into the lobby of the mansion, ducking under the second set of crime tape.

* * *

><p>The entrance lobby strangely resembled that of a palace out of a Disney film. Enormous oak doors opened up to a large room with an ornate marble staircase as the centrepiece, which branched in two to the upper floor as well as the bedrooms. On the ground floor were two separate corridors running parallel either side of the staircase leading to the kitchen and the servant quarters. Even grander doors led to fine rooms which Miura no doubt indulged in, a portrait of him was mounted above each door and archway; paintings which reflected not only expressed power and splendour but more obviously arrogance and narcissism.<p>

"Looks like he wasn't afraid to make himself his number one fan," Catherine remarked, looking around at Miura's choice of décor.

"You've got competition," Brass whispered into Nick's ear.

"Now just because I've read about him, doesn't mean…" Nick began to argue defensively only to be cut off by Catherine.

"Tell me about the body David," she asked the assistant coroner, who was kneeling beside the lifeless, withered corpse of Goushi Miura lying at the foot of the stairs and in perfect juxtaposition relative to the largest and most elaborate portrait of his mounted on the wall where the stairs branched.

"Rigor is just starting to take effect," he commented. "Suggests he's been dead around about three hours. Liver temperature confirms that."

"That would put his TOD, around three am," Catherine said.

"Nine-one-one call came a little before five," Brass said, looking through his notes. "That's when the first workers arrived and unlocked the mansion."

"So if they're to be believed, that would suggest we have a possible intruder around," Nick deduced. "I'll go check the perimeter for any possible breaking in or out points."

"If the house is locked up overnight, that would suggest Mr Miura would head off to bed wouldn't it," Catherine pondered, looking at the body. "If he died at three am why is he still wearing his business clothes? I don't know many people who sleep in their suits."

"Well lividity is fixed, which suggests he died here," David remarked. "He's got a bit of a nasty head wound, looks like he's lost a lot of blood."

"I don't see much blood here though," Catherine pointed out. "I've got a few drops heading here." She walked towards the marble staircase, noting how clean and well-polished the stone floor was.

"Excuse me ma'am," she heard Brass suddenly call out. Distracted, she turned and saw Brass bounding over to a woman who had emerged from the kitchen, a mop in her hand and ready to be used. "You need to be on the other side of the crime tape."

"I urrm… I need to clean mess," she replied. It was apparent the cleaner's English was poorer than many of the other workers. "Mr Miura doesn't like messy house."

"With all due respect, that's the least of his worries. I need you to step outside now ma'am."

"No, no it's so dirty, I need to clean…"

"I can't let you do that ma'am," Brass growled beginning to get more irritated. "This is a crime scene and I need you to step outside now. You realise anything you clean will compromise our investigation?"

"But this house is such a state…"

"I've had enough, I'm taking you outside," Brass muttered, grabbing the cleaner's arm and despite her protests, he was able to pull the cleaner aside and remove her from the crime scene, past a confused looking Greg and Sara who had only just arrived.

"Hey, you solved it without us, what gives?" Greg said, watching Brass take the cleaner away.

"Not a suspect just an inconvenience, don't worry there's still plenty of work for you to do," Catherine reassured him. "Nick's doing the perimeter. We'll start off downstairs and work our way up."

"Alright," Sara acknowledged, she indicated to the rooms either side of the staircase. "I'll go right, Greg, you can take the left. Judging by the size of this place, I guess I'll see you in three hours then."

"Hold on a moment Sara," Catherine called out, keeping low to the floor. "I think I've got some drops heading upstairs. David, do you reckon that head wound could have been the fatal blow?"

"Can't tell for sure until a full autopsy is done," he called back, finishing up his initial external examination.

"I've got more blood up here," Catherine called out as she slowly began to ascend the staircase. "A few drops here…"

Suddenly Catherine felt the floor beneath her disappear, she let out an impulsive shriek as she impacted against the ground and began sliding downwards. It was only until she hit the bottom of the staircase that she regained her composure and realised the gravity of the situation. The staircase had literally folded inwards forming an impenetrable hill of marble, out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure run into the entrance foyer.

"If you want to live another day, I suggest you get yourselves out of here right now!" He shouted to the CSIs, all of whom were still in shock at Catherine's incident. "Get out, now!"

Catherine saw Brass standing behind the man, looking as if he was agreeing with the sudden stranger. Realising it was for the best, she reluctantly left her post, ushering her team out of the mansion and back behind the crime tape. As she left the scene she looked back in realisation. This was no ordinary house. This was no ordinary murder.

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><p><strong>AN: I'd like to apologise for taking so long to update and get together a new story. It's been a busy couple of months, I've been away, my laptop's broken and I've gone to uni, so this series has taken a backseat. However, I hope this assures you that the series is far from dead and I will continue updating, although unfortunately, these updates will not be as frequent as before or as regular. Nevertheless, I shall give you all a rough indicator of when the next update will be.**

**The next chapter of the story will be posted sometime within the next 2-4 days so keep checking back. I'm sorry I'm not able to update as regularly or frequently as I'd like to, but I simply don't have the time to. However, I will definitely be continuing the series and have big plans ahead and there won't be a 2 month gap in between!**

**I hope you enjoyed this slight revival anyway and I seriously thank you for your patience! I'm sorry it's taken this long to get anything posted. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and tune in to part two! :) **


	2. Part 2 of 4

"There better be a good reason for this," Catherine told the mysterious man as they made their way across to the front lawn, her tone showing no hesitation in showing her displeasure at the delay. "The longer we delay, the more distance our killer gets from us!"

"I can assure you ma'am, this is for your own safety," the man told her, although she showed no sign of relaxing her attitude. "And it's likely to be related to your investigation."

"Well you better start explaining then," Brass intervened, raising an eyebrow. "Mr… Young, right?"

"That's right captain, I was a close advisor to Mr Miura and in particularly to his security," Young began talking. "Mr Miura was a very… paranoid man, he didn't like to make public appearances, he spent the majority of his life fearing for his life."

"So where does the fancy staircase come into it?"

"It's part of an elaborate security system Mr Miura wanted implemented into his house, I was his designer and consultant."

"Why not just hire bodyguards?" Catherine asked.

"He didn't want human presence around, more susceptible to corruption. His words."

"Does Mr Miura have a next of kin who can be informed?" Brass asked Young.

"Mr Miura and his wife have been divorced for a while, his family chose to stay and live in Japan."

"Now why does that not surprise me," Brass retorted sardonically before shifting the conversation forwards. "Tell us more about the security system."

"It's essentially a series of unsuspecting traps which could incapacitate a possible intruder," Young went on to explain. "For instance, there's the staircase system, the suit or armours, the ice corridor…"

"You know, big spooky mansion, old guy living alone, traps set around the place, our killer's got to be a man in a mask," Brass muttered to Catherine. "Anyway Mr Young, you know it's an offense to set up a trap for a possible home invader?"

"What?" Young asked in disbelief. "Since when has it been a crime to protect one's self in his own home?"

"It is when it's pre-meditated, and even more so when it tries to _incapacitate_ the CSI team I just sent in there," Catherine explained to him, her voice beginning to rise as the anger began to bubble up inside her. "As a designer of this _security_ system, you're looking at some jail time sunshine."

"Okay, okay, okay," Young stepped back, slightly panicked. "I'll make a deal with you. Information for a… urrm… a lesser sentence."

"That's for the DA to decide," Brass told him. "But we need you to shut that thing off. We want everything about this system: blueprints, data logs, the lot."

"Sure thing, anything you need, I'll get my team on it right away."

"One more thing," Catherine warned him, tossing Young a pair of latex gloves and shoe protectors. "Don't contaminate my crime scene."

* * *

><p>"Well, body's coming out," Nick observed, watching as David and an assistant wheeled the corpse of Goushi Miura out of the house, smirking to himself as the gurney collapsed, much to the frustration of the coroners. "Hope that means we should be in soon."<p>

Him, Sara and Greg were sat down on the vast lawn outside the mansion, watching parts of the investigation go on around them. Wallis' car had been towed back to the lab and the number of servants being questioned had dropped significantly, some of them simply leaving the premises whilst others were taken downtown for further questioning. Young's team had entered and left several times, having to dash back every now as the relatively tranquil setting was disturbed by an irritating siren of some sort blaring from within the house.

"This sucks," Sara said stubbornly. "How long have we been waiting, two hours now? And it looks like," she glanced at her watch, "we're now on overtime."

"Aw come on Sara, it's not all bad," Nick smiled at her. "Here we are, away from the city, taking in the sun and the setting. I have to say, I would love to live out here."

"I'm with Sara I'm afraid," Greg said, having finished a mouthful of his sandwich. "Having spent the last three weeks doing pretty much nothing, believe it or not, I'm starting miss fingerprint dust."

There was a momentary silence between the three of them before Sara broke the silence once more. "Catherine's pissed again," the three of them turned their heads back to the front door, observing as their boss once more began to kick off at one of the members of Young's team, having apparently screwed something up again. "Yep, it's gonna be another long day."

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><p>Catherine paced up and down the driveway, trying to take the reality of the situation in without infuriating herself. <em>Two hours? It's taken them two hours to turn off a bloody alarm system which the guy invented himself!<em> She shook her angry thoughts away; she had to keep her cool. An irritating chirping informed her of an incoming call. She looked at who was calling:

_C. Ecklie._

Groaning to herself again, she picked up the phone, trying to hide the frustration in her voice, "Willows."

"Catherine, I sent you out there three hours ago, we haven't even got a body back yet," Ecklie's voice showed a hint of both annoyance and anxiety as he spoke down the line. "What's going on up there?"

"The coroner's heading back to the lab, we just had… a minor setback," Catherine replied, shaking her head as she spoke.

"Minor… setback? Oh god, who stepped over the line this time?"

"No, no, it's nothing to do with the team," Catherine assured him. "Umm… the crime scene kind of… tried to kill me."

"The crime scene did _what_?"

"Look, I'll have to call you back," Catherine told him as she saw Young approach her. "Nice talking to you…" she abruptly hung up the phone and walked towards Young.

"It's all yours now," he told her. "All alarms have been switched off and we managed to disable the security system…"

"You mean the booby traps," Catherine butted in. "And about time too."

She walked away from him and headed towards the front door, reluctantly passing by Vartann on her way. She heard his footsteps behind him, "Errm Catherine, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Later," she told him, instantly realising her words were harsher than she intended. She stopped walking and faced him. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude, it's been such a hectic day and we've just got our scene back."

"I understand," he replied, smiling. "Later."

He gave her a small peck on the cheek and walked away. Catherine paused for a moment, forgetting what she was here for, for a short moment only though, quickly getting her mind back into gear as she saw her colleagues walk towards her, all of them tired, fed up and looking very sunburnt.

"Okay then," Catherine called out to her rather unenthusiastic looking team. "Sara, Greg, you continue snooping downstairs, Nick and I will take the upstairs."

"And what if the house tries to kill us again?" Sara inquired.

"I've been assured that the system has been completely shut down. Just watch your step."

* * *

><p>Once inside, the team got straight to work. With a two hour delay and their shift digging well into overtime, they all felt exhausted but performed their task dutifully regardless. Catherine frowned as she made a further discovery on the staircase, following the blood she had initially found before they had been evacuated.<p>

"I've got a blood trail," she called out to Nick, who was examining the area at the bottom of the staircase. "Take a look at the blood drops."

Nick walked two-thirds the way up the staircase to where Catherine was stood, kneeling down, he examined the drops which she had pointed out. "Well that's strange," he remarked. "It looks like the blood has smeared, as if it's flowed down the stairs."

"Exactly. Blood is about ten times more viscous than water, and there's simply not enough of it to be able to naturally flow from the top of the staircase to the bottom."

"Which means that, assuming the blood belongs to Miura, he set off the staircase trap. David mentioned he'd sustained a head wound, perhaps he bashed his head as the staircase gave way?"

"Maybe, but we still need to hear whether it was fatal from autopsy," she approached the top of the staircase and saw more blood drops, leading to the right hand branch of the staircase. "I've got some more drops here," she called out to Nick. "Gravitational blood drops it seems, it looks like there's more to be told up here."

"Right behind you Cath," Nick responded, hopping up the stairs two at a time. "I'll just collect a sample of this for Selma."

* * *

><p>The melancholy chill that tied itself to the depths of the coroner's office found itself being wafted away by the nonchalant whistling of a blues tune as the office resident joined in with the music emitting from the stereo. Even on his first day of the job many years ago, Al Robbins never found himself wanting to move away from the morgue, not even after the most disturbing cases did he even consider quitting. It was his job after all, and he knew not a lot of people could face it as he could.<p>

He signed the bottom of his preliminary report of Goushi Miura, satisfied with another hard day's work. Just as he placed his pen down, he heard footsteps outside immediately followed by the opening of the doors to the morgue.

"I thought I could hear the sounds of Charley Patten," a mellow voice emitted from behind him.

"Your ears deceive you, Ray," Doc replied without turning away from the body. "Blind Lemon Jefferson, The Cheaters Spell, one of his last ever recordings before his untimely death at the age of thirty-six. Acute myocarditis."

"My mistake," Ray replied, putting on a pair of latex gloves. "My blues knowledge it appears isn't as up to scratch as I'd hoped."

"Hmm," Doc agreed. "I thought you were taking a sick day."

"Well I'm feeling better now and life's too short to be withering away in bed," Ray pointed out to Doc, approaching the body on the slab.

"I won't tell Ecklie," Doc told him reassuringly. "But seeing as you're here, I'm sure there's no harm telling you about Mr Miura's COD."

"Fire away."

"Numerous fractures around various parts of the body, ulna, some of the ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. All of these appear consistent with a fall and happened around the time of death. The victim also suffered a single blow to the head with a large, heavy object fracturing the parietal bone and causing severe bleeding."

"So blunt force trauma was COD?"

"Blunt force trauma was certainly significant but I don't think it was the main factor contributing to his death. I noticed the vertebrae and spinal cord had suffered severe strain, it's likely that the brain was subjected to abrupt and aggressive lateral movements, eventually rupturing the temporal lobe. COD was an eventual subdural haematoma also combined with a large amount of blood loss."

"Abrupt and aggressive lateral movements?" Ray asked. "I'm not entirely sure what exactly could cause injuries like that."

"Me neither," Doc Robbins replied, becoming increasingly curious with a jar left on the side filled with what looked to be Miura's stomach contents. "Internally, Mr Miura was in decent health, one of the healthiest I've ever seen for his age."

"The Japanese lifestyle is considered one of the healthiest globally," Ray commented. "Generally, it consists of a lower fat intake, alcohol consumption and studies have shown that genetically, Japanese men are less prone to developing lung cancer. Almost makes me wish I'd grown up there instead of South Korea. What did he have in his stomach?"

"I'm still waiting for tox but notably I found a half-eaten cracker, tea, some beans and that's all really."

"Beans?"

"Good for the heart," Doc glanced at Ray in an almost warningly manner.

"Well, clearly they didn't do Mr Miura much good."

* * *

><p>"Hey Catherine, I managed to get some information about this whack-trap from our knights in shining armour," Brass walked over to the redhead who was still gathering what looked to be cast-off from the walls. "Okay, the system kick-starts itself at eleven-thirty every evening and switches itself off at five am, just before the morning shift arrive."<p>

"Well we know that's screwed up," Catherine scorned as she stood up to face him. "We were here well after five am and the place still tried to kill us."

"Security guy explains that the system has to be shut down manually once it's been set off, which can be done via a control panel in Miura's room."

"But Goushi Miura was dead; he couldn't have switched it off. Why did he even leave his room if the security system was still running?"

"He'd have been pretty much dead the second he stepped out his door," Brass commented, reading from a booklet which Young had handed him. "You see those two statues there," he pointed to a pair of statues flanking each side of the door replicating what looked to be suits of armours. Both carried what looked to be large batons in their hands. "Guess what their job is."

"Whack-a-mole," Catherine replied bluntly. "I'll make that my next stop."

"Once you get past MC Hammer you've got some turntables, rotating both clockwise and counter-clockwise at one-hundred-eighty RPM."

"I don't think I want to hear any more."

"Tell me about it," Brass sighed. "Judging by how nuts Japanese gaming shows are, I wouldn't be surprised if this guy was trying to make his own version of Total Wipeout."

"What was that about the turntables again?" Nick, who had been processing further down the corridor shouted down.

"They spin clockwise and counter-clockwise, set off by pressure. Sounds like they'll mess you up pretty good," Brass replied.

"Okay, well I just got off the phone with the coroner," Nick informed them. "He mentioned something about the vic having injuries consistent with abrupt and aggressive lateral movements. It sounds like our vic took a spin."

"What else did the coroner mention, Nick?" Catherine asked, her initial hunch seemingly becoming a reality.

"Numerous fractures around the body, consistent with a fall and our vic did take a tumble," Nick said, as he recapped his conversation with Doc Robbins. "Oh, and blunt force trauma. He said it was only a single blow, but the wound seemed large. I haven't seen anything which matches that description yet."

"Don't worry Nicky. I think I have an idea. Jim, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That depends on what you're thinking," Brass shrugged.

"I'd say our victim was killed by his own security system. First, he sustained a blow to the head. Then he took a spin, I assume his wound at this point was bleeding and the centrifugal forces caused the cast-off. Victim then falls down his own staircase and then just, bleeds to death."

She looked around to Nick and Brass for confirmation, both of whom appeared to buy her explanation, nodding in agreement.

"It looks like an accident to me," Nick added, looking over to Brass, who remarked.

"No winners this time."

* * *

><p>Sara stifled a yawn as she found herself checking over the same chair again. It had been a long day and in the three rooms she had processed that morning she had found precisely nothing which suggested that neither Miura's death had occurred there nor, apart from the various artefacts in the grand living room, suggested reasonable motives for a murder.<p>

"Somebody's been hungry," Sara told herself quietly, picking up a fragment of what appeared to be a biscuit or cracker from the floor beside the armchair. She realised that it was probably irrelevant but anything was better than nothing at all.

"Hey Sara, come and check this out," she heard Greg shout to her from a room opposite hers. Hoping that maybe he'd found something a little more noteworthy than a few crumbs, she picked herself up and walked to the room across the elaborate entrance hall.

She walked into a room which could obviously be described as a small library, or even a study were it not for the fact that the entire room look like it had laid untouched for years. It was something she could see Grissom indulging himself in. A few bookcases were dotted around the edge of the room with an ancient, mahogany dining table in the very centre. Dust was abundant throughout and it was obvious that Miura was clearly interest in preservation over praxis.

"Well somebody upset the servants," she joked as she walked over to Greg who was kneeling beside a bookcase on the near-side of the room. "What have you found then?"

"Easy, just find the odd one out," Greg beamed at her.

Sara rolled her eyes; trust Greg to make her work more than she had to. She glanced at the bookshelf and read the titles. Ancient philosophy, economics, a bible, mathematics, none of them really standing out to her.

"I don't know Greg, just tell me," she gave up, much to his satisfaction.

"Look at all these books, it looks like they haven't even been picked up for years, possibly decades," he pointed out a single book on the shelf which was third from the bottom. "But it seems we have a dust void on this one."

He put his fingers along the spine and attempted to pull out the book, but to their surprise the book simply tilted backwards and locked into place. An eerie creaking sound filled the room as the entire bookcase slowly swung forwards, revealing a darkened staircase descending below the house.

"You've got to be kidding me," Greg groaned. "I'm starting to believe the Addams family are responsible for the guy's murder." He looked down the seemingly bottomless staircase and back to Sara, anxiety etched on his face. "I don't think I want to."

"Will you do it for a Scooby Snack?" Sara teased.

"Fine," Greg scowled at his colleague. "But ladies first."

"Ever the gentleman, Sanders," Sara retorted, switching on her flashlight and descending the staircase, Greg following closely behind.

The staircase spiralled for what appeared to be a few metres underground before emerging onto a corridor, lit creepily by gas lanterns along the wall. After walking for a few seconds, Sara felt a door in front of her. Heart beating slightly, she pushed it open with a great deal of strength; it was heavier than she anticipated.

Then it hit her.

A smell she had become accustomed to in her many years at the field. She fumbled around on the walls and to her surprise she found a light switch. Flicking it upwards, the room began to flood with light, revealing what looked to be a cold war style nuclear bunker, underneath the house. However, the bunker itself was not what was drawing Sara's attention.

"Greg… I think you should call back-up," Sara whispered slowly, as she transfixed her eyes on the body of the young woman sprawled across the blanket which lined the floor. Arms bent out of place, blood soaking onto the blanket, eyes completely frozen in fright reflecting the last moments of her life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know, it's late again. Maybe if I didn't tell you when I'll update I'll get it out in good time. :P**

**Anyone tuning into Season 12 at the moment? What are your thoughts? Personally, I think Danson has given the series the kiss of life it needed; I am LOVING the new stories, the return of the CSI-family feel and general humour of the show which was embraced in the earlier seasons!**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed part two, thanks for all the reviews thus far and sorry for keeping you all waiting again. Keep checking back soon for part three!**


	3. Part 3 of 4

Catherine and her team looked on as two coroners wheeled the body of the Jane Doe out of the library. It had been another setback into the investigation, just as it appeared that it was coming to an end. David trooped out of the secret passageway, carrying what appeared to be a purse with him.

"I found this with the body," he handed the purse to Vartann who opened it up looking for an ID. "Rigor has fully set, she's been dead at least eight hours but the colour of her skin suggests she's been dead less than twenty four."

"Before or after Mr Miura died?" Catherine asked him.

"I'd say before, but it's difficult to tell as of now. The body shows no signs of lividity."

"She was dumped," Sara noted. "I think our killer knew the perfect hiding place."

"Our victim's name is Peyton Adelaide, twenty-five years old," Vartann told the team standing around as he flicked through the victim's purse. "Eighty dollars or so and it looks like all her cards are still here. I think we can rule out robbery as a motive."

"Two bodies, who died on the same evening, found in the same house. They surely have to be related don't they?" Nick asked around.

"Yes, but until we can prove otherwise, we're treating them as two separate instances," Catherine informed him. "Sara, Greg, I want you investigating our female vic's death. Nick and I will carry on with the Miura case."

"And who's going to authorise our overtime?" Greg asked, slightly peeved with their excessive workload.

"Suck it up Greg, you're the one who begged me to come back today," Catherine reminded him. She heard Greg mutter something under his breath as he and Sara headed back into the bunker to process. Thankfully for him, what he said was inaudible to Catherine.

"What do you think then Catherine?" Vartann asked her softly as Nick and David headed back to the lab to continue the case.

"I'm thinking… that Mr Miura may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

* * *

><p>Sara and Greg immediately got to work processing the bunker and corridor proceeding to it. The two of them scoured the entire area looking for any clues which might lead them to their killer however evidence was proving difficult to find. David's initial examination had identified that the body had been moved, likely dumped in that area. Luminal and ALS usage failed to detect blood and other fluids in neither the bunker nor the staircase and corridor leading to it, not significantly enough to suggest that Peyton Adelaide had been killed there.<p>

The two CSIs quickly deduced that the blanket had been involved in the transportation of the body and had absorbed up most of the blood which the body had excreted. A few smears of blood across the walls and bannister of the staircase suggested that the body had made minor contact with its surroundings, probably by brushing against them allowing a small amount of transfer to take place.

"How many hairs did you find Greg?" Sara called out to her colleague who was processing the other side of the bunker.

"None," he replied simply. "All I've managed to find was a partial print on the book on the shelf. The door came back with nothing. Why do you ask?"

"I think I've just found a couple here," she said, crouching down to pick up the minute hairs with a set of tweezers. "Unfortunately it only looks like they were shed, meaning we won't be able to get out any DNA from them."

"I've got something over here," Greg called out, picking up what looked to be the heel of a stiletto up from the floor. "Looks like a heel of some sort, was the victim wearing stilettos?"

"Yes, yes I think she was," Sara recounted, recapping her discovery of the body back in her mind. "Did anyone mention an event at the house, a dinner of some sorts? Sounds like the vic was dressed for some occasion."

"Yeah, and I don't think she had her deathbed in mind."

* * *

><p>Nick sat alone in the break room, enjoying some much needed relaxation from the hectic and laborious case that had taken them all by surprise. He pondered about the case as he indulged in a cheese and pickle sandwich, courteous of Judy, the receptionist. Frustratingly, they knew how Goushi Miura had died and he partly stood by what Grissom had told him numerous times. <em>It's about the how, not the why.<em>

Nevertheless, the why was continuously pestering away at his conscience with every mouthful. _Why had Goushi Miura even left the room at all? Why had he fallen into his own trap?_ It seemed strange for a man to burn away a huge amount of money on a security system which had no way of distinguishing between friend and foe. That was of course, assuming that the blood samples collected all belonged to Goushi Miura. Although he had always admired his former mentor however, he knew this time that there was definitely more than the how which needed to be answered, and although he personally thought the discovery of Peyton Adelaide had much to do with it, he still had to focus on his original assignment.

"Blood tox panels from Mr Miura have come in," Henry chirped merrily, entering the break room where Nick had been eating. "I found trace amounts of moxifloxacin hydrochloride in his system, nothing particularly drastic, the compound is generally found in eye drops medication…"

"Check out that huge spike there though," Nick interrupted, reading the results that Henry had handed to him. "Diazepam. That must have been one hefty dosage."

"Thirty mg to be precise, taken in a single dosage. Not enough to knock you or me out cold but for a guy as frail as Miura, he shoulda slept like a baby."

"The servants said he was an insomniac, but we never found any tablets or prescribed medication which showed him being a user."

"It might be worth taking a look at what he last ate or drink," Henry suggested.

"Yeah I got Hodges taking a look at some cracker which Sara found in the living room. Have you heard anything about the blood samples I sent to Selma yet?"

"I did drop by DNA to see how she was doing with that workload you dumped on her."

"What did she say?"

"_Thirty different blood samples, three backlogged cases and another twenty hour shift. Pester me some more and you'll be leaving work today in several body bags. _Her words."

"Thought it would be something along those lines," he stood up and handed the results back to Henry, patting him on the back as he walked away. "Hey, thanks for taking the fall for me."

As Nick turned the corner he heard hurried footsteps approach him as another lab tech approached him frantically.

"Hey Nick," Nick turned around finding himself face to face with Hodges, who was standing alarmingly close to him. "Oh, sorry," Hodges realised, awkwardly taking two steps back to space them apart. "Anyway, the cracker-like substance Sara sound in the Japanese geezer's living room, is in fact, a cracker."

"Mind blown," Nick replied sarcastically taking the results away from him. "Anything else you might want to add with that?"

"Actually yes," Hodges began smirking. "Seeing as I saw Henry was backlogged running the tox for the victim's blood, I bestowed it upon myself to determine the chemical compounds which coagulate to form said cracker…"

"Let me guess, you found diazepam in it?" Nick butted in.

"You know, I hate it when you CSIs do that," Hodges exclaimed annoyed.

Nick simply shrugged, telling him, "you never seemed too bothered when Grissom did it."

* * *

><p>"Look, I already spoke to you guys earlier, Mr Miura was alive and asleep when I left the house last night," Suki sat across from Brass, arms folded in defiance and annoyed that she was being held longer. "I was told that he died around three am and I was long gone by then."<p>

"We found a nasty dose of diazepam in Mr Miura's system," Brass informed her, "in your statement to Detective Vartann you said you simply "tucked him into bed." Did you forget to mention the fact that you drugged him?"

"What do you mean?" Suki asked him, becoming increasingly uncomfortable towards what Brass was saying. "Yes, I gave him some sleeping remedy, my boss suffered from insomnia and he was supposed to have big meetings today. I was helping him out."

"Did you not give him enough of it?" Brass prompted, Suki gave him another glance of confusion. "See thirty milligrams in one dosage, pretty bad for someone like Mr Miura, but not as effective as what you had hoped."

"What are you saying I tried to kill him?"

"And when that didn't work, you lured him out of his room into his own trap…"

"Okay this is ridiculous, I didn't kill my boss, and I have no reason to."

"I'd get a little pissed off if I made my career giving sponge baths to some old geezer," Brass quipped, maintaining his trademark deadpan.

"Look," Suki replied, with a bit more firmness in her voice. She stared straight into Brass' eyes, eager to make a point. "I don't know what you're judging Mr Miura by but let me tell you this, he was a good employee. Sure, he liked tradition and hierarchy but he treated us well: long holidays, easy hours, excellent payment. Captain Brass, I earn a six-figure salary doing what I do, I'm willing to bet I earn more than most of the guys you have working for you. Why would I throw that all away?"

The two of them sat there in silence momentarily as Brass took in what she had told her. He sighed; he knew that the diazepam was not the primary cause of death and what Suki had just told him seemed legitimate. He slid a photo, the crime scene photos of Peyton Adelaide, across the table to her. "Do you know this woman?"

Suki glanced and it briefly and replied sharply, "I've never seen her before in my life. Can I go now?"

"One more question," Brass halted her. "Are you aware of a hidden bunker underneath the house? Our CSIs found an entry point in Mr Miura's library, that's where they found her." He indicated to the photo.

"Captain Brass," she started speaking, slower and more hesitant. "Nobody's been in the library since I've worked at the house. It's always been locked."

Brass raised his eyebrows as Suki read his confusion.

"Always," she repeated discernibly.

* * *

><p>"Hey Sara," Sara turned as she saw Greg bounding excitedly out of a nearby room, intercepting her in the corridor. "Here's something interesting about our Cold War bunker. I studied the blueprints for Miura's mansion, well specifically, his security system. Guess what isn't on there."<p>

"The secret passageway to the bunker," Sara muttered, reading the map as they walked down the corridor towards the prints lab. "Maybe Goushi Miura didn't know it existed?"

"I don't think he knew either, but, I did a little bit of research into the history of the house," Greg handed a new folder to Sara. "Builder and owner was a Mr Patrick Walliams, he built the place in the late-fifties, Cold War-era, Cuban Missile Crisis, makes sense to build a secret bunker to protect him."

"And you know that how?" Sara asked inquisitively.

"Well, I don't know about whether he actually built the bunker but it makes sense."

"What happened to the guy?"

"Nobody knows, one night in sixty-eight his housekeeper reported he picked up his bags and simply left. Nobody's seen him since, his body was never found."

"Well I'm not a believer of the supernatural, but due to how weird this case has become, I'm not going to rule out the ghost of Patrick Walliams as our killer." Greg snorted to himself as the pair rounded the corner into the prints lab. "Hey Mandy, have you got a hit on our partial?"

"Sure do," Mandy replied merrily peering up from the computer screen. "Your partial came back to a Harold Wallace; he has a pretty small rap sheet, just a DUI charge."

"Whoa, check out the date," Sara noted reading the man's record. "August twenty-sixth was this morning right?"

"Right," Greg nodded. "He's an employee of Miura's as well, meaning he'll have access to the house and probably knows all its secrets."

"I'll have Vartann bring him back to interrogation."

* * *

><p>"Hey buddy; you want something for that hangover of yours?" Vartann asked a crippled looking Harold Wallace. The suspect lifted his head from his arms and groaned sheepishly, nodding his head. "Good, I'll have my guys send down a drink for you depending on how much you're gonna cooperate with us."<p>

"Aw come on man, I'm dying here," Wallis complained clutching his head.

"Yeah, too bad for Peyton Adelaide she got something worse than a hangover," Sara remarked to him. She answered Harold's look of confusion by sliding photos of the crime scene across to him. "Do you know this woman, Harold?"

Wallis squinted, taking in the image before shaking his head. "No, I haven't seen that woman before. Why, what happened to her?"

"She's dead," Vartann replied bluntly.

"Look I'm really sorry about that but I don't know anything about no murder or anything," Wallis responded, notably lacking any real remorse in his answer, reserving his pity for his raging headache and dizziness.

"We never said she was murdered," Vartann responded, eyeing up the suspect suspiciously.

"And, we found her body in a secret bunker at Goushi Miura's mansion," Sara added. "You know the one behind the bookcase in the library."

"There's a secret bunker in the library? First time, I've heard of that, especially seeing as that library's been locked for, god knows how long."

"Hey," Vartann barked. "Don't play stupid with us, we found your print on the book which opens it you dumbass."

"Yours was the only print," Sara spoke. "And seeing as the library's supposedly been locked for "god knows" that makes you look even worse. You might want to start telling us some truth because we found that library opened when we got there and two bodies."

"That DUI you've racked up, a week in prison if you're lucky. Murder, twenty-five to life."

"Alright then," Wallis moaned. "You know that temptation to get behind that closed door, one night I managed to get into the library, had a snoop around as there's no security around it except for the windows. I accidentally found it but that place freaked me out, I haven't been back since."

"And that was when?" Sara asked him.

"Bout a month back."

"Did you tell anyone about it?" Vartann questioned him.

"A couple of people I guess. Look, I don't know who this girl is, or who killed her, but it wasn't me, I swear."

"Well we're still awaiting results from autopsy but for your benefit you might want to give a list of people who you told your little adventure to."

"Yeah whatever, can I have my water now?"

* * *

><p>Catherine sat alone in her office, catching up on some unfinished paperwork for her coffee break. The various papers consisted of a variety of important forms which she needed done a while back and with Ecklie breathing down her neck for them. She sighed as she signed her name of approval for Greg returning to the field after his prolonged absence following his near brush with death. A second form was laid in front of her depicting a handful of cases to be signed off.<p>

"Hey Cath, you got a second," Nick popped his head from round the corner. "Think I've found something interesting which might benefit both cases."

"Let's have a look," Catherine ushered him over to her desk. Nick walked over and laid out his findings on Catherine's desk.

"Right we know that Miura's TOD was around three am," Nick began to explain his findings, Catherine nodding as he went through it with her. "I fished out the data from the security system; it automatically makes a note of when the door is unlocked at the start of the day and at the end of the day."

"Do we have anything which stands out?"

"Yeah, at two-forty-seven the system notes the front door was unlocked. At two-forty-nine the system went from 'aware' mode to 'active' mode…"

"Which is when the house turns into a killer."

"Right, now for some strange reason it's reported that the house was locked up again at three-eighteen am before being unlocked again at four-forty-five. Nine-one-one call came at four-fifty-five."

"Right, we need to find out what happened in those thirty-one minutes the house was first unlocked."

"I have a theory, after speaking to Sara and Greg about their case" Nick exclaimed, a hint of excitement apparent in his voice. "Peyton Adelaide, our dead bunker woman, was dumped by an unknown suspect. In doing so, the perp activates the system and leaves. Meanwhile, Miura is awoken by the system, goes out to see what's going on and in doing so gets whacked by his henchmen of gravel."

"Okay that makes sense, but why would Miura leave his room knowing he was gonna get whacked as soon as he stepped foot outside?" Catherine asked him.

"That's what I'm still stuck on," Nick hesitated. After a few moments of thought he perked up, realising something that may have been glossed over. "Hold on a mo," he began frantically flicking through the system handbook which Young had given them. "Brass mentioned that the system needed to be manually switched off by a panel in Miura's room."

"And what does that require?"

"Says in here that it's deactivated by a four-figure code, the code is Miura's birthday, zero-four, thirteen, so it says here anyway," Nick continued reading the handbook. "Catherine, what if something went wrong with the deactivating? Or he didn't even remember to?"

"He still had a ton of diazepam kicking around his system," Catherine noted. "I guess his judgements could have been off."

"I'm going to go back to that house and have a look at this system with my own eyes. There's something dodgy about this in my eyes, I don't think we're looking at an accident here."

"That's what I'd do. Be careful Nick; don't accidentally switch it on again."

"Oh don't worry about that, I'm not like you… Daphne," he teased strolling out of her office leaving her to get back to her paperwork. "Hey Raymundo, how you doing man?"

Catherine abruptly looked up from her desk, missing Ray's reply as he passed Nick into her office. "Hey boss, is this a bad time?" He asked her.

"Ray?" She asked in surprise, "I thought you were meant to be pulling a sickie?"

"Actually, I needed to come and tell you something," Ray answered her inquiry, hesistating slightly. "In person."

"What's up?" Catherine queried, concerned at Ray's charismatic demeanour. Whilst Ray wasn't more serious than other members of the team, his body language and facial expression seemed even more sombre than usual.

"I don't know the easiest way to say this, but it's urrm, been on my mind for a while," Ray began explaining to her. "I think I'm gonna need some time off."

"How much?" Catherine replied anxiously, almost immediately.

"I don't know," Ray slumped himself onto a chair, intertwining his fingers as he thought. "But I think I might need a permanent leave of absence."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: [Insert I'm slow at updating comment here] ;)**

**Hmm… maybe something for you to start thinking about here, the story's not over yet though. I'm currently in the process of writing Part four due out sometime in the next millennia.**

**Hope you're enjoying the story anyway, I'm sorry updates have been far and few but the upcoming Christmas break might give me some time to try and get ahead of myself. Thanks for your patience and thanks for all the reviews and alerts so far, it means a lot to me. :)**

**Check back soon for the fourth and final part of the story!**


	4. Part 4 of 4

Nick eyed up the small control panel situated by Goushi Miura's bedside. It consisted of just a simple menu screen activated by code inputted onto the console. It was essentially just a standard burglar alarm, albeit with more of a killer intent. Nick peered at the screen, browsing through the menu on the screen. One task read activate system, Nick chose to ignore that and chose a simple settings tab, unsurprisingly the console asked for the password. He inputted 'zero, four, one, three'. Access denied. He put in the code again. Access denied. He tried twice more with the same code only to come up with the same message.

"Hey Catherine," Nick spoke down his cell phone to his boss. "I think I can explain why Miura got bopped by his own bodyguard, let Mandy and Archie they're in for a big haul."

Nick chuckled to himself as he hung up the phone as he imagined the two lab tech's disgruntled expressions when told of their increased workload. He then got back to his work, picking out the extruder gun from his kit and casting a paste across each of the buttons which made up the panel for the console. As each cast set he took a photo, sending each one back to Mandy at the lab who ran them through I-AFIS.

As Mandy analysed the fingerprints, Nick unscrewed the main console, removing the motherboard and hard drive containing any data inputs which had been made to the individual system. He checked these devices for prints, when none showed up, he bagged them as evidence, instructing a cadet to take them back to the A/V lab as soon as possible.

Having extracted the data from the console, Nick heard his cell phone chirp, the name display showing that Mandy had finished identifying the prints. "Stokes."

"Right, I found prints on the zero, one, three and four keys," Mandy spoke down the phone, her tone suggesting tiredness and a desire to call it a day. "All of them came back to one person, the victim, Goushi Miura."

"Okay then, thanks dear," Nick laughed as he heard Mandy make a grunt of annoyance before she hung up the phone. He picked up the phone, instantly dialling Catherine's number. Before she had even had a chance to answer the phone he exclaimed happily down the phone, "my gut instinct paid off. I'm ruling this case out as an accident."

* * *

><p>Doc Robbins pulled back the cloth, revealing the last moments Peyton Adelaide's life etched onto her face. "I'm sorry to disappoint you Greg, COD was not the ghost of Patrick Walliams."<p>

"Fair enough," Greg remarked. "But if he ends up on your table, I'm your first port of call."

"What exactly was COD then Doc?" Sara asked him, eager to move forward with the investigation.

"COD, similar to your first victim, massive head and neck trauma, although her first and second vertebrae snapped, severing the spinal chord," Doc Robbins read from his initial autopsy findings.

"So she was our house's second victim then?" Sara suggested.

"Actually she wasn't," Doc Robbins intervened, pulling away the sheet covering her lower body to show her legs which showed extensive signs of damage. "Fractures of the proximal tib-fib joint. She was hit below the knees."

"She was hit by a car?" Greg queried.

"That's correct," Doc Robbins confirmed, he pointed to an interesting bruise on her upper right thigh. "This is a peculiar contusion, but it confirms she was hit here first, I found little bruising elsewhere on the body suggesting she died moments after she was hit."

The two CSIs peered at the oddly-shaped bruise closely, Sara muttering, "looks like a 'H' or something on an ensign, H for…"

"Honda," Greg finished for her. "She was hit by a Honda."

"I can't tell you what speed our Honda was going," Doc Robbins spoke up. "But I can tell you that our driver obviously cared enough to clean up after themselves, many people would have left the victim out on the road."

"Whoever hit her must have known about a good hiding place, and must have worked for Miura…"

"Wait a minute," Sara interrupted him, reading through the case file she had brought down with her. "I've got it!"

Without saying another word, Sara briskly walked out of autopsy, a sense of excitement apparent in her stride leaving Greg and Doc Robbins clueless towards what she had discovered.

"Do you plan on following her?" Doc Robbins, obviously amused by Sara's abrupt behaviour, asked Greg.

"I'll take my time, maybe she might have solved it by the time I find her," he joked. A beeping sound announced that he'd just received a page. Glancing down he saw it was from Sara. _Get your lazy ass to the garage ASAP_. "Well scrap that, I've got a date with a mean machine… and some bashed up vehicle."

* * *

><p>"Alright Archie," Nick said, placing a hand on the AV tech's shoulder and crouching down to see what was going on on the screen. "Tell me what you've found."

"Actually, it's what I haven't found," Archie replied. "I managed to access the complete data log which shows precisely what has been changed over the years, and I've found barely anything."

"Run me through them all then," Nick instructed him.

"Well I've got a four incorrect codes inputted earlier today," Archie told him.

"Yeah that was me testing the system for myself," Nick replied.

"I've got a correct code being inputted from this morning, and before then an incorrect code being put in at two-fifty-eight am," Archie muttered, scanning through the sparse data sets on the computer screen. "Before today, I've got nothing, no changes to the options, no intrusions, no shutdowns. Goes all the way back to two-thousand-and-two when the thing was set up."

"Whoa, hold on you said a correct code was inputted earlier today?" Nick asked him, his initial hunch turning into the likely theory.

"Yep, the correct code was seven, seven, five, nine."

"Whoa that's nowhere near the code we were given in the handbook. And it looks like Miura was fooled too, and you say the code has never been changed?"

"Not even entered before last night."

"Cheers buddy, I think it's about time we brought in the brainchild of this messed-up system."

* * *

><p>"Is your head screwed on upside down buddy, or are you just plain stupid?" Brass paced around the room, circling Young, who sat as composed as he could possibly be in his seat.<p>

"I don't quite get it, Captain Brass," he quivered, obviously intimidated by the police captain.

"Do the numbers 'zero, four, one, three' and 'seven, seven, five, nine' mean anything to you?" Brass asked Young, who had casted his eyes downwards towards the table. "I'll take that as a no."

"Why are you holding me here?" Young demanded. "Is it just because the security system I designed almost injured some of your guys? Hey, don't forget who saved their asses back there."

"Oh is that all you think this is about?" Brass raised his voice sharply, slamming both his hands on the table so aggressively it took Young by surprise. He flinched into an upright position. "You mean you don't care about everyone else who worked or resided in that death house? The servants? Guests? Mr Miura himself?"

"They knew about the risks associated with the system and the agreed to it," Young replied, equally raising his voice. "The system made that house the safest place in Vegas."

"Did you just hear that? It sounded like Goushi Miura flipping in his grave," Brass grunted, ever losing his patience with Miura's assistant. "Tell me, what's the password to deactivate the system?"

"Zero, four, one, three," Young replied casually. "My boss chose it himself."

"Yeah, maybe, but is that the code you actually put into the computer?"

"Urrm, yeah it was," Young retorted, as he sat back, folding his arms and rocking on the hind two legs of the chair in a cocky manner.

"Mr Young, I've got here the complete data extracted from your elaborate security system, one side of A4," he dangled the paper in front of Young before sitting down next to him. "Let's go through it together, shall we?"

Brass paused, apparently it was not a rhetorical question but Young slowly nodded, unsure and anxious about what awaited him.

"The data shows pretty much every time anything has been inputted into the keypad. From November twenty-first o-three until yesterday we have nothing."

"Well that means the password was never changed then…"

"Oh it wasn't changed we know that, it wasn't correct to begin with. Incorrect password error has come up five times today. Once at two fifty-eight am, four times at two pm." Brass quickly glanced at Young, noticing that his pupils had become increasingly dilated and his hands were beginning to shake, a sign of caving. "We found prints on the zero, one, three and four numbers, they all came back to Miura who was found dead moments later…"

"Well you can't prove that I was the one who inputted the incorrect password originally."

"No, but let me show you this nifty statistic," Brass smirked, pointing at a line around a third of the way down the page. "Correct code, system de-activate, ten-thirty am. Four guys saw you personally reset the system; two of them were police officers."

"Surely you would have found my prints all over those number keys as well then."

"Catherine Willows gave you latex gloves," Brass reminded him, stunning the man into near silence. "You knew the code Mr Young, you knew the system was programmed on the incorrect password and you did nothing… for eight years."

Young continued to sit in silence, Brass said nothing more, hoping that the awkward quiet between them would extract some final plea for clemency from Young. But instead of a plea, or cry of despair having been convicted, Young managed to find a voice which seemed rather unlike him. Deep, glum and slightly sinister.

"Funny, isn't it? How I did nothing?"

"Oh, believe me, I'm laughing my ass off," Brass muttered to himself sardonically.

"I spend, close to a year designing it, working triple hour shifts, testing prototypes; I even spent half of my own savings on it. What do I get in return? Nothing! No little bits of "well done Francis" or "nice job." I got no sign of reward, heck, eight years on and I'm still in the same old job whilst my boss is too busy collecting his human antiques from all over the world. My entire career, treated like a piece of crap."

"Trust me," Brass warned him. "I'll bet you were treated better there than where you're going."

"Do you know what is funny? I didn't even mean to kill him; I just wanted him trapped in his own room, and his only way out would be having me save him. But you know what; I got to do both today," he smirked to himself sinisterly before adding coldly, "and you know, I think this way worked out better."

"Well Superman, a.k.a. Francis Young, you're under arrest for negligent homicide, for the death of Goushi Miura," Brass rose to his feet, indicating to the officer by the door to cuff Young, who still bore a cold-blooded grin upon his guise.

From behind the glass which overlooked the interrogation, Catherine and Nick watched as Francis Young was escorted to a jail cell by Officer Mitchell. The two of them had been watching the entire time, not even speaking to each other as the interview unfolded.

"You know you did good today Nick," Catherine told him, thinking about what Young had just said in the interrogation. "And I'm not just saying that… because… you know…"

"Nah it's cool, no worries," Nick replied. "Besides, there was something dodgy about that guy the moment he appeared."

"That's why I'm saying you did good. You knew something wasn't right and you went back and investigated it, even at the risk of almost pulling a triple. I… I reckon I might have let him slide."

Nick grinned and shook his head at Catherine, "I know you Catherine, and trust me, you'd have gone all the way as well."

Catherine smiled back, unsure whether she had had as much faith in herself as Nick did, but nevertheless the words were a great comfort to her, taking her mind off the bombshell which had potentially been dropped on her that day.

* * *

><p>Greg walked into the garage to find that Sara had already started to comb the red Honda that was sat in the middle of the room.<p>

She popped her head out from underneath the car, calling out to him, "you took your time!"

"I've been gone ten minutes!" Greg called back to her.

"Yeah, and I want to go home today, so I could do with a hand," Sara replied. Greg rolled his eyes, giving in to her nagging. "RO is our DUI, Harold Wallace."

"Yeah, I think I saw the guys from impound towing it away from the crime scene earlier," Greg recollected, he noted the large dent in the front of the car. "This thing hit a tree didn't it?"

"I don't think a tree is the only thing it hit."

The pair of them began the task of processing the car, Greg was able to find a red substance on the bumper of the car, hydrogen peroxide confirmed the substance to be blood. Sara's inspection of the trunk revealed small blotches of blood and pieces of fabric which looked similar to the blanket that was found along with Peyton Adelaide's body. A four pack of beer was collected from the backseat of the car; only one beer can was left attached to the rings connecting them. Having processed the majority of the car, the pair of them fumigated the entire vehicle, revealing prints on the steering wheel and door handle which were collected.

As they finished lifting the prints from the available surfaces, Hodges came bumbling in looking smug with himself as per usual, ready to reveal a pile of results for them.

"Choose a number, one, two or three?" Hodges offered to them.

"Hodges, do we really have time to play this…" Greg began irritated.

"Three," Sara interrupted, hoping it would motivate the lab tech to give them the results quicker.

"Miss Sidle has chosen folder number three," Hodges said to her in a voice reminiscent of a game show host. "I wonder what her prize will be."

Sara bemusedly opened the folder, reading in her most dead-pan voice, "hairs found at the scene were feline, notably from a Turkish Van cat. Hairs match fibres found on a pair of gloves in Harold Wallis' possession at the time of his original arrest."

"Now Mr Sanders, one or two, which will you choose?" Hodges asked Greg in the same tone.

Greg simply took one of the folders out of his hands and read the contents of it aloud. "Fabric found in the boot of the car was a match to the blanket the body was wrapped in."

"So what else have you got for us Hodges?" Sara told him, eyeing up the remaining folder in his hand.

"I'm afraid David Hodges cannot tell contestants what they _could_ have…"

"Hodges," the two CSIs warned him.

"The blood from the trunk and the front of your car matches the victim," Hodges blurted out, quickly surrendering to the tired and grumpy CSIs.

"I got to say," Sara said smiling. "That is the definition of a slam-dunk."

* * *

><p>"Miss Sidle, that evidence is circumstantial," Wallis' attorney warned her. "A partial print found on the entrance to a hidden passageway?"<p>

"Which leads to where we found the body of Peyton Adelaide," Sara argued.

"But you have no evidence to prove which places the body of Peyton Adelaide with my client."

"Actually, we do," Sara glanced at Vartann who sat beside her. _The look he returned telling her bring out the big guns_. Sara pulled out a series of charts, crime scene photos and evidence sachets, placing them in front of Wallis one at a time. With each piece of evidence his eyes changing from relief to terror.

"Peyton Adelaide wasn't killed at Goushi Miura's mansion, was she," Vartann declared to Wallis. He whispered something to his attorney, who nodded back in reply.

"No, she wasn't," Wallis replied, faltering as he spoke. "And I… I didn't mean to…"

"You were drunk weren't you," Sara told him, in a surprisingly reassuring voice. "Lights all around, dizziness, you probably didn't know she was there."

Wallis shook his head apologetically, "it… it all happened so fast. One moment, I was cruising along the boulevard, the next there was a scream and I heard something hit the bumper and fly over the top of the car… I couldn't… I couldn't just leave her there."

"You took her to the one place you know was secret, secret from most people anyway. Remove all evidence her death had taken place, you even took her broken heel." Wallis nodded, tears beginning to stream down his face. "Then once you dumped the body, you went to leave the house, but, you saw your boss at the bottom of the stairs. He had died too."

"Two people died… two people died because I couldn't be assed to take a bus," Wallis sobbed. It was hard to feel sorry for a killer, but Sara knew what it was like to suddenly find yourself at the side of the road, no idea how you got there, no idea where you got the headache from.

"What did you do after you found the body of your boss?" Vartann asked Wallis.

"I wanted to call it in, I'd sobered up a bit, finally my instinct was kicking in… I saw blood on my car, my windscreen was cracked. I crashed it into the tree, hoping that it would cover it all up."

"Then you got drunk on the rest of your beer, making it look like just a DUI charge." Sara finished the story for him.

"I'm… I'm so sorry," Wallis sniffled, a look of genuine remorse etched upon his face.

Sara stared back into his eyes, hers beginning to well up slightly as she thought about how one silly act had ruined so many lives. "I'm sorry too," she replied sadly, although who she was most sorry for, was eating away at her mind.

* * *

><p>"Okay, okay, there's still something I don't get about this case," Nick exclaimed to the rest of the team as they sat in the break room discussing the case. "Why did Miura even leave his bedroom? Even when the system said it hadn't deactivated?"<p>

"Well he was heavily dosed on diazepam," Greg pointed out. "I mean, he didn't even seem to realise he went to bed in his suit, how could he read an error message on that tiny screen?"

"Yeah but he must have had some idea that if he'd stepped out that room he'd have been knocking on heaven's doors?"

"Did your dad ever take you out hunting Nick?" Ray asked him.

"Yeah, yeah we used to go down to Lake Travis in summer when I was a kid, go camping and set up a few traps by a campfire. Caught quite a few rabbits back then."

"Do you remember the delight of catching your first rabbit? I'm sure Miura would have thought the same, after an eight year wait. Not over a thousand years ago mankind survived on what he hunted, and I'm sure that instinct is still present in a lot of us today. Harold Wallis was essentially that first rabbit."

"Well it's true what they say, curiosity killed the cat," Greg added.

"Ironic isn't it," Sara spoke up. "Miura builds a mechanical bodyguard, afraid of corruption, only for the machine to only show loyalty to another person."

"The "safest house in Vegas", possibly the world, kicks up two bodies, two different crimes in one night," Catherine added to Sara's point. "I think I'll stick to a husband who can kick ass."

"Well, speaking of human instinct, I think the only thing I'm crying out for at this moment is some sleep," Nick said, stifling a yawn as he got out of his seat. "I think I'll be calling it a day there."

"I second that motion," Greg piped up. "I've changed my mind from earlier, I miss my bed more."

"I'm off too, see you guys tomorrow," Sara called out as she picked up her bag and followed the guys out of the break room leaving Ray and Catherine behind.

"You think you're going to do okay?" Catherine asked Ray, realising he had returned to his sombre expression.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Ray assured her, also starting to pick up his belongings. "I think rest is probably the best thing for me for now."

"Yeah, take it easy. Go and see a doctor if it gets any worse," she instructed him, her motherly instinct kicking in. "Have a good night."

"See you tomorrow boss."

Catherine watched Ray leave, concerns beginning to fill her mind as she remembered their talk earlier that day. She looked at her watch, she was due on shift again in a few hours, it almost seemed pointless going home.

"Hey, you're still in," Catherine looked up to see Vartann poking his head round the corner of the break room. "You still wanna talk?"

"Oh-erm," she hesitated. "Sorry Lou, I'm knackered, and I'm meant to be back here in six hours. It's been…"

"Hectic, I know," he finished for her, still grinning. "My place is closer you know."

Catherine thought about that proposition for a moment, she mentally kicked herself at how long she had taken to process the offer. It was one if she was in any other state she would have accepted within half a second.

"Yeah, that sounds great!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, pinch yourself, an update only TWO days after the last!**

**Anyway, that's the end of this story. I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for everyone who has reviewed so far, keep them coming in guys! The next story, **_**Dreaming of a Normal Death **_**(1x09) is due to be released on ****Friday, November 25****. (hopefully) It will also be Sara-centric.**

**Sorry this one's dragged out a bit, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless! Thanks for reading!**


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